


Peppermint Twist

by dizzzylu



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Fingerfucking, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 18:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/298568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzzylu/pseuds/dizzzylu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anybody else would think this is just the way Jensen savors a candy cane. Slow, steady. Making it last as long as possible. Jeff, however, knows better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peppermint Twist

**Author's Note:**

> A Christmas fic for the lovely akadougal. Her prompts were _spies, candy canes, fingering_. Once again I got two of the three. Thanks to perfumaniac for the read through  <3

Jeff has been watching him all night, candy cane tucked in the corner of his mouth. Every once in awhile, Jensen will purse his lips around it, make it bob around by flicking at it with his tongue, then clench it between his teeth and part his lips so he can swallow around it. That particular move reveals the pink shine of his tongue, the dark space behind it. Something Jeff is intimately familiar with in taste and texture.

Anybody else would think this is just the way Jensen savors a candy cane. Slow, steady. Making it last as long as possible. Jeff, however, knows better. Which is why he's been half-hard in his jeans for most of the night.

Jensen moves around the room smoothly, talking to grips and PAs, Phil and Bob, weaving through the crowd to help Genevieve with trays of food, sharing a story with Misha. Jeff follows him, mostly with his eyes, but physically, too, as Jensen makes his way toward the stairs and up, away from the noise and, presumably, the heat. Jeff is about ten steps behind, but Jensen is waiting for him just around the corner, a knowing look in his eye.

Jeff crowds Jensen against the wall on instinct, one hand on the wall and a knee between Jensen's. His gaze drops automatically to the ticcing candy cane in Jensen's mouth and he growls, "Such a fucking tease." He leans into Jensen's hip to prove his point.

Jensen grins around the candy cane, pushes it out until the barest hint of it is still caught between his teeth, and arches an expectant brow at Jeff. Jeff takes it between his own teeth without a second thought, grabs Jensen's wrist, too, to pull him in the bathroom. Even before the door is closed, Jensen is dropping to his knees, blurry gaze focused on the jut of Jeff's cock through the jeans.

Jeff hisses at the rasp of the zipper, Jensen's cool fingers on his heated skin, then downright yelps when Jensen's peppermint-tinted mouth is on him, cool and slick and-- "Jesus fucking _christ_ , Jensen." The candy cracks between his teeth as his chin drops to his chest. Jensen is looking up at him through the thick fan of his lashes, dares to wink at him before pulling of to suck kisses into the crown, tongue at the slit.

Everything is cool and wet, too much and not enough. Jensen making truly obscene noises with his stuffed-full mouth. Jeff fumbles for his head, palm cupping Jensen's face so he can feel the head of his cock bumping soft against the slick inside of Jensen's cheek. Eventually, his fingers thread through soft hair and he tries to get Jensen to slow down, to at least ease up on the deep throating, but that heavy weight in his gut is pulling taught, the candy cane is crushed between Jeff's grinding teeth, and all he can do is brace himself against the wall as he comes, with a stuttered grunt, down Jensen's throat. Jensen tries to suck him through it, slower and more gently, but his breath is still too cool for Jeff's sensitive skin and he pushes at Jensen's shoulder to get him to back off, chuckles quietly at the soft pink pout of Jensen's lower lip.

"C'mere, sweetheart," he rumbles, pulling Jensen up by the nape of his neck. They kiss, slow and careful and minty, until Jeff can tuck himself back into his pants, cool and a little sticky. Beside him, Jensen is working on sucking a bruise into his neck, hips hitching against Jeff's thick thigh. The hard line of his cock is hot even through two layers of denim. With peppermint still on his breath, Jeff gets an idea.

Pulling Jensen into another kiss, Jeff maneuvers Jensen until he's leaning against the vanity, legs fitted around one of Jeff's. Between them, there is just enough room for Jeff to work open his jeans, the button fly, and push them down over the perfect curve of his ass. His fingers rasp over the skin on the way back up, the tip of one flirting with the rim of Jensen's hole. Jensen's cock throbs against his belly, precome pearling at the slit.

"Turn around," Jeff whispers, nipping at Jensen's lips and jaw. It's clumsy, with Jeff pinning him in and his jeans binding his thighs, but Jensen manages, back curved to thrust his ass out. Jeff purrs his approval and smooths a hand down Jensen's side, across the pan of his pelvis, up along his belly, pushing his sweater up as it goes. Once it hits the ribcage, Jeff stills, thumb circling one tight nipple, and takes in the view of them in the mirror; Jensen chewing on his lower lip, hands braced on the sink, rocking back into the hand Jeff has resting lightly on his ass. His eyes are dark and hooded, glassy from alcohol and need.

Jeff strokes his palm along the sweet curve of it, the skin warm and taut, and realizes too late that he has no lube. Jensen seems to understand when the hands stops, fingers teasing the soft place where ass meets thigh, and taps a bottle of Genevieve's hand lotion against Jeff's shoulder.

"Hope it doesn't smell like peaches," Jeff jokes, but neither of them are in any position to be picky at this point. Jensen _wants_ and Jeff wants to give it to him. He pumps a few squirts directly onto Jensen, deliberately deciding not to warm it up first. Jensen shudders at the shock, one long movement from head to toe, and tilts his hips up further, legs widening as much as they can.

Jeff only strokes one finger over him at first, teasing him like Jensen's been teasing Jeff all night long. It's worth it to see Jensen so desperate for it, hips searching for him every time he pulls away. When even he gets tired of that, Jeff teases Jensen by slipping just the tip of a finger in, then back out. He does it over and over again, ignoring Jensen's needy grunts.

"Goddamn it, Jeff," Jensen grits out, glaring at him in the mirror.

Jeff chuckles, dark and low, and thrusts his finger in all the way, sinking into Jensen's heat in one rough glide, the burn of not enough lube sharpening the edges.

Jensen hisses through his teeth, leaning into the pressure, hips circling. He's searching for more, for the too-full feeling of three blunt fingers stretching him wide, but Jeff isn't read to give that to him quite yet.

With his free hand planted on the sink next to Jensen's, Jeff presses in to soak in the fine trembling of Jensen's body. In the mirror, Jeff takes in the picture Jensen makes: the flush crawling up Jensen's neck and into his cheeks; the dark, sweat damp hair, clinging to his temples; cherry red lips, turned that color by the candy cane and Jeff's beard; the just of his cock, dark and leaking, bobbing with every thrust of his hips. The precome clings to his sweater, and Jeff would probably feel bad about that if he wasn't still in a post-orgasm haze.

Though Jensen does paint a pretty picture, which is true for every time they fuck, what Jeff really wants is for Jensen to watch himself in the mirror. He wants Jensen to take in the slutty tilt of his own hips, the way his cock glistens with precome, the furrow in his brow just before he comes. But he can't do that with his eyes squeezed shut so Jeff's finger stills its lazing thrusting. Jensen's eyes pop open automatically and he growls a warning.

"Keep your eyes open, sweetheart," Jeff warns, thumb rubbing over Jensen's rim. "Or this is going to take a lot longer.

Jensen's head drops and he spits out a string of curses. When he doesn't lift it again, Jeff scrapes a nail over sensitive skin and starts to pull out, knuckle catching on the edge.

"Okay, okay. _Fuck_ ," says Jensen, head bobbing back up as if it's on a string. His eyes burn hot, pupils wide. The pink tip of his tongue pokes out as he thrusts onto Jeff's finger. Jeff rewards him by adding a second, which drags a long, low groan from Jensen.

Ignoring Jensen's insistent rocking, Jeff keeps his rhythm nice and slow; long drags of his crooked fingers drawing pleading whimpers from Jensen, the echoes of them settling hot in his veins, his groin. Before Jensen can get too used to it, Jeff adds a third finger, groaning at the greedy clench grabbing him tight.

This is the Jensen he loves, the shaking limbs and teeth dug deep into his lip, trying to muffle whines desperate to come out. The Jensen that gets to drop the choir boy exterior and unravel piece by piece. This is the Jensen only Jeff gets to see. The fact that there's three dozen guests downstairs, any one of which could come upstairs at any moment and interrupt them? That just makes Jensen's unraveling that much sweeter.

Soon, Jensen's arms are wavering under the strain of holding himself up. He rasps Jeff name, a aching, raw sound scraped low from his gut, and he tries to gesture at his cock, fat and red and, god, _so_ gorgeous. But his one arm won't hold him, and for that second that his gaze leaves the mirror, Jeff adds a fourth finger, dragging a dark, please moan from him.

Jeff leans in, then, chin resting on Jensen's shoulder. His lips barely brush the shell of Jensen's ear when he says, "You can come without me touching you, can't you boy?" He punctuates the 'boy' with a quick twist of his wrist. The angle of it seems to hit the prostate; Jensen's spine bows from the pleasure of it.

"Shit. Jeff, _please_ ," he whines again, eyes dark and wet. His legs are shivering, desperate to open and make room for Jeff, but unable to do so. Jensen is so close, _so_ close, and Jeff isn't a cruel man, he isn't. But Jensen is so amazing like this: needy and uninhibited. He may not be cruel, but he's been known to be selfish. Especially when it comes to Jensen.

 _Not paying attention, he brushes over Jensen's prostate again. Jensen cries out, sharp. Then, under his breath, he's chanting ' _fuckfuckfuck_.' Jeff can only hear it if he leans in close, his stubble scratching over Jensen's cheek. He smiles, wide and dirty, and starts shortening his strokes, angles his fingers _just so_ , so that he's hitting the prostate more than he's not._

"C'mon sweetheart," he all but growls in Jensen's ear. The skin is sweaty there, from the strain and the heat, and he flicks his tongue out to taste it, nips at the earlobe. "You can come, I know you can." His free hand drifts to Jensen's thigh, then, the skin there hot and slick. He skims it up, against the hair, and lets it rest in where groin meets thigh. His knuckles brush against Jensen's balls. Not on accident. "Just let go," Jeff finishes, barely a whisper.

Jensen does; back tightening and voice choked. Jeff's fingers in his ass still through the impossible clench of it, Jensen clamping down tight to ride out his orgasm. It only gets worse -- tighter, hotter -- when Jeff finally gets a hand around Jensen's cock to help work him through it, getting spatters of come on the vanity and Jensen's thighs and his sweater. His chest heaves with it, desperate for oxygen, and he arms finally give out as his falls forward, elbows catching on the vanity with a dull thud.

Reluctantly, Jeff lets Jensen go to wash the lotion and come of his hands. He watches Jensen from the corner of his eye, though, coming back to himself in stages. First the evening out of his breathing, then his head tilting up to look in the mirror, finally a quiet chuckle. While Jensen pulls his ruined sweater off, Jeff grabs a washcloth from the linen closet and runs it under the water; hands it to Jensen when he stares at his thighs and jeans with a helpless look.

"This is why you wanted me to wear a shirt underneath, isn't it?" He doesn't bother looking to Jeff, too focused on cleaning of his cock to get confirmation of what he already knows is true. "Goddamn Jeff, I'm _hot_."

His free hand comes up to unbutton the top three buttons of his oxford. The skin underneath gleams with sweat and Jeff has a swift, unbidden urge to press his mouth there, in the hollow of Jensen's throat. To use his teeth and tongue until the shape of his lips is branded there, a promise for later, a declaration to others.

"Yeah," Jeff says, leaning against the door with his hands in his pockets. His gaze follows the movement of Jensen's hand as he zips his jeans closed. "You're hot alright."

Jensen ducks his head to hide a shy grin. "C'mon old man," he say, hooking a finger through one of Jeff's belt loops. "That's enough naughty for one night."

Jeff grins, allows Jensen to pull him away from the door. "Oh no, sweetheart. I'm just getting started."


End file.
